by Ann Gimpel
“I’m meeting someone,” Calista mumbled, “but I can tell him we need to pick a different place.”
Tairin gazed across the river, but didn’t see anyone else. Calista must have an assignation with one of the men. Maybe one of the married ones, which could get uncomfortable fast. “I can leave. It’s all right. I don’t need privacy.”
“Thank you.” Gratitude flared from the other woman.
Tairin sensed it with her magic. She rose and gathered her bunch of rags. The incessant sun had nearly dried them. To lessen the odds of running into whomever was on their way to meet Calista, Tairin walked to the far end of the island before crossing the river. It was deeper here, and her skirts got wet even though she held them higher than before.
She wasn’t ready to return to her wagon. Wasn’t ready to see her mother and pretend she hadn’t overhead her earlier. The safest path for everyone was if she left the caravan. Maybe after they got to Giza, she could fade into its ancient, crowded streets. Isis and Anat had temples there. If she threw herself on their mercy, they might take her in, allow her to work in exchange for shelter and food.
It was as good a plan as any.
Sorrow threatened to spill from her eyes, and she blinked back tears. The only way she could pull this off would be if she pretended nothing had changed. She was Aneksi and Jamal’s dutiful daughter, a loving granddaughter to Aneksi’s parents, and a devoted caravan member who turned all the money she made over to the caravan elders.
An uncomfortable rolling sensation deep in her gut made saliva pool in the back of her mouth. Was she about to be sick?
“You failed to factor me into your plans.” A familiar voice pushed words into her mind.
The wolf.
Tairin sank to her knees in a clump of rosin cress studded with sweet marjoram. She plucked the marjoram, stuffing it into a pocket for the drying rack. Years ago, the wolf had been a playmate, a friend. They’d never talked about anything serious, and she’d enjoyed its company.
An idea formed.
“You want me to be your friend, right?” Tairin sucked in a breath. Would her gambit work?
“We are more than friends.”
“I—I don’t understand. I used to like you, but I don’t anymore. Not very much, anyway.” Strategy frittered through her fingers as she opted for truth.
A low, rumbling growl filled her belly. Some of it spilled from her mouth before she choked the unnerving sound off at its roots. She’d sounded like a wild animal, and it worried her even more than having the wolf in her mind talking with her.
“You have to let me out. It’s time. We bonded long ago when you were still a child. The rules state that once you become a woman, you shift and I run free.”
“Rules?” Shock stiffened her spine, and she curled her hands into tight fists. “What rules? Who made them? Where can I find them?” The last question was sheer bravado. She didn’t read well enough to decipher Coptic, but the wolf couldn’t know that. Or could it?
“Teaching you was your father’s job. He failed you. I’ve had this discussion with Jamal’s wolf.”
Tairin flashed back to her father’s words from earlier that day. “Not only will it happen, it’s close. Closer than you imagine. I see it in her eyes, and my wolf walks with hers in the place where the animals all roam together. I must talk with Tairin. Prepare her—”
Before her world fragmented around her and turned into something alien, foreign, she drew herself together. “I don’t want you. I don’t want to shift. Not now. Not ever. I’m done with that part of things. Go away. Leave me alone.”
Sorrow deeper than her fear sluiced through her. Tears overflowed, and the place her heart sat behind her breastbone ached as if someone had died.
“What’s happening to me?” she moaned, not expecting an answer. The shape she was in, she would have been horrified if anyone came upon her.
“Let me help you,” the wolf said, its voice gentle. “You’re frightened. You don’t really want me to leave. If you order me from you, break our bond, I’ll have to comply, but you’ll be less than half a person then. I’m an elemental part of who you are. Without me, your life will be bleak, black, empty.”
“I know what I want—” she began, but the place the wolf had been in her mind was blank, and she knew it had left.
“Damn it.” She pounded a fist into the hot sand beneath her. “It left before I could banish it.”
Maybe it left to save me from making the worst mistake of my life.
Her thoughts sobered her. Giza wouldn’t be for a few days. If her father hadn’t left again, she’d find a way to draw him aside and ask him point blank about wolves and shifting. Her mother wouldn’t tell her, but maybe he would. The wolf inferred she could rid herself of it. She needed to know the ramifications if she did. Was what it had said true? The part about her life turning bleak, black, and empty?
A shudder racked her, followed by several more, and she pushed to her feet. Could her life possibly become any worse? Any bleaker, blacker, or emptier than it already was?
Preoccupied and apprehensive—because so many loose ends mocked her—Tairin made her way back to her wagon. She’d catch grief for not starting dinner an hour ago, but with all the other problems facing her, that one was laughable.
Chapter 3
The evening meal was long since over, and Tairin couldn’t put off rolling herself into her blanket for much longer. She was too keyed up to sleep, but she didn’t want to do anything that drew attention to herself. Her mother had been quiet through supper, but her grandparents chatted up a storm. Either they were oblivious to the tension in the air, or they were compensating for it by pretending it didn’t exist.
Tairin finished cleaning and drying the last of the pots and utensils they used at every meal. “Do you know where Father went?” she asked Aneksi, trying for a casual tone.
“Why?” Her mother latched her discerning gaze onto Tairin’s face.
She shrugged. “No reason. He was here earlier. I felt his magic.”
“He has business interests to address. They often draw him away from us.” Aneksi’s words were stilted, tense.
Tairin sent what she hoped was a subtle thread of magic to delve beneath her mother’s message, but Aneksi screwed her face into a frown.
“None of that, young woman. Show some respect.”
The stress of the day caught up with her, and Tairin’s temper—never her long suit—snapped. She rounded on her mother and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “You never show me respect. I’m having a hard time, and you won’t tell me anything about—”
Her mother moved faster than Tairin had ever seen her. Hooking an arm around Tairin’s waist, she dragged her away from the circle of wagons. Tairin squirmed, trying to escape, but her mother’s grip was too strong to break. Once they’d covered some distance from the flickering lights of the caravan, Aneksi stopped, but didn’t let go.
She moved in front of Tairin and dropped a hand on each shoulder. “I will not have our business publicized for the entire caravan, nor do I want my parents upset. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly.” The word choked her, stuck in her throat. “Let go of me. All I asked was where Father is.” Tairin buried a desire to throw herself into her mother’s arms. Once upon a time, Aneksi had been a source of comfort.
Not anymore.
“He and I had a difference of opinion. I don’t expect him to return.” Aneksi shook her head hard enough her hoop earrings jangled. “We don’t need him. The caravan will provide for us.”
“But he can’t not return. I have things to ask him.”
Aneksi narrowed her eyes to slits. “Things you have no need to know.” She lowered her voice. “You must fight this other part of you. Do not let it grow or gain ascendency. If the Romani discover the truth, they’ll banish you, and young women on their own face many…complications. Problems the caravan shields you from.”
Something else rode beneath her mother�
�s words. Tairin didn’t see where she had much else to lose, so she probed. “And what will they do to you? Last I checked, marrying outside our bloodlines was forbidden. You deceived everyone—including me.”
Her mother let go of one of her shoulders long enough to slap her hard across the face.
“Do not let her get away with that.” The wolf, who’d vanished earlier, was back.
Tairin didn’t need much goading, she’d had enough of her mother for one day. Pouring magic into a casting, she jerked free from her mother’s grip and wove wards around herself. “There,” she taunted. “You can’t hurt me anymore.”
Aneksi reached for her. Sparks flew where her hand connected with Tairin’s ward. Fury contorted her features, and she skinned her lips back from her teeth as she called power of her own.
Here it comes, Tairin thought.
She’d suspected she’d grown stronger than her mother. Was it true? Power battered her wards, turning the night blue-white where the two magics collided. Tairin reached deep into the earth that nourished her. Earth and fire were her preferred elements. She was fairly proficient with air. Water ran a poor fourth.
“Don’t just protect yourself,” the wolf urged. “Hurt her. She drove your father away.”
The wolf’s emotions cascaded through her. Primitive, harsh. They dragged her back to her senses. Tempting as it was to take her pain out on Aneksi, if she alienated her mother, she’d seal her fate. Thinking about leaving the caravan, versus being forced to because her mother threw her out, were two entirely different things.
Tairin straightened and began reeling in her magic. “Mother. I’m sorry. I don’t want a war with you.”
The glowing nimbus around Aneksi receded as she sheathed her power. “Glad you’ve come to your senses, daughter, but some things cannot be undone. This is one of them. Get to bed. It’s late.” Turning on her heel, Aneksi stalked into the night.
Tairin watched her go, nursing an empty place inside her. Father was gone. Mother didn’t care anymore. Or maybe she was worried about her own hide. It was easy to believe you’d never have to pay the piper for your sins. Tairin had done enough sketchy things, only to get caught later, to understand that dynamic.
Jamal was a beautiful man. Tairin understood how her mother could have fallen hard for him, ignoring what he was. Who knew? Maybe he’d hidden his true nature until there was no turning back. If they’d never had her, though, her mother might have dodged retribution for her sins.
Forever.
Tairin turned it over in her mind. She hadn’t actually shifted yet, so her mother might still escape justice. Maybe the wolf was more controllable than she thought. It was gone again. She’d come to recognize its presence within her. Feeling sad, desolate, she trudged back to the wagon. Her grandparents would be asleep, so she wouldn’t have to explain where she’d been. Goddess knew when her mother would return.
Tairin stopped at one of the water buckets to throw water on her face and swish some around her mouth as she scrubbed scum off her teeth with a particularly hardy variety of marsh grass. She crept into the wagon and spread her blanket on the floor in the corner where she’d slept since she was old enough to sleep alone.
The blanket and corner smelled familiar, soothing, but she wasn’t fooled. Her life teetered on the edge of a major change. Whether she took to the streets in Giza, or her mother booted her from the caravan before they got there, made little difference. Aneksi was done with her. Tairin had recognized dismissal in her mother’s face before she strode off into the night. It was like blowing out a lamp that had once shone bright, but was now dark and cold.
What had she done wrong? All children grew up. Surely, her mother hadn’t expected her to remain a baby forever.
Her heart hurt, and her throat was thick with unshed tears. Babies didn’t shift. That ability—or curse—came with maturity. Aneksi had told her to fight it, and maybe she could, but her mother hadn’t offered any help. Hadn’t said she’d stand behind her. Hadn’t opened her arms so they could make up after their fight.
What she’d said was, “Some things cannot be undone. This is one of them.”
No Mother. No Father. Just her.
“And me.” The wolf was back.
Tairin shut her eyes. The last place she wanted comfort from was the wolf. It was why her mother and father were no longer together. It was why her mother hated her. If it would go away, her life could be normal again.
“It’s not how the world works, Tairin. You’re tired. It’s been a difficult day. Sleep now. I will watch over you and see that nothing harms you while you rest.”
The wolf’s words were so kind, she stuffed a hand into her mouth to stifle her sobs. Confusion made it impossible to think. How could the thing that was responsible for her plight provide comfort? It made no sense.
She should hate the wolf, but she couldn’t summon the energy.
Her lids felt heavy, and she shut eyes that swam with tears. Tairin hadn’t expected to sleep, but the descent into blackness happened so fast, she suspected maybe the wolf had magic of its own and had spelled her to sleep.
Chapter 4
Gray light pushing through slats in the wagon’s sides woke her. At first, the morning felt welcome. She’d always taken pleasure in the beginning of a new day, but reality cascaded through her bringing memories of yesterday. Her muscles clenched, and she probed with magic. Her grandparents were still sleeping, which wasn’t anything new. They were almost fifty. Old by anyone’s standards.
Being careful, she hunted for Aneksi but didn’t find her.
What exactly did her mother’s absence mean? She might be done with Tairin, but surely she wouldn’t walk away from her parents. She was their only child, and she cared for them now that they were too old to provide for themselves. It was the Romani way. Tairin’s eyes widened. If her mother banished her, who would provide for her once she grew old?
Not my problem. I have plenty of my own without worrying about someone who doesn’t care about me anymore.
She folded her blanket and stowed it in its place in a simple wooden chest, taking pains not to wake her grandparents. That done, she let herself outside and built up their cook fire to get the morning meal going. Aneksi might be gone, but that didn’t mean her parents wouldn’t want to break their fast.
The grain gruel studded with nuts and dates was almost done when the rustle of skirts and her mother’s scent drove Tairin to her feet. She spun to face Aneksi, unsure what to say.
Her mother saved her the trouble. She looked like she hadn’t slept. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her normally well-groomed hair was a mass of tangles. “Thank you for preparing the morning meal.” Her tone and words were formal.
“You’re welcome.” Tairin wanted to ask where her mother had been, but it wasn’t the kind of question a child asked a parent.
“We’ll get through this, somehow,” Aneksi muttered.
Tairin didn’t see how if they couldn’t talk about it, but she bit back the words. Her mother looked defeated, her shoulders slumped and her eyes glazed and dull. Nothing like her usual, forthright self.
Aneksi knocked on one side of the wagon to let her parents know a meal was ready. Picking up a bowl, she scooped some of the mixture into it and began to eat. Tairin wasn’t hungry, but she did the same. For once, her grandparents weren’t overly chatty while they crouched in the dirt eating, alongside Tairin and Aneksi.
Tairin scanned them with magic, keeping it very subtle. The dark place in her grandfather was growing larger, and the spots where her grandmother’s mind was unraveling were bigger as well. Before the year was out, her grandfather would be dead and her grandmother not much different from a very young child.
Not comforting, but impossible to put a better face on.
She felt her mother’s gaze on her. When Tairin glanced her way, Aneksi shook her head. The meaning was clear. She’d divined what Tairin was doing and expected her to keep her mouth shut.
Tair
in trained her eyes on her empty dish. Had her mother rethought last night? Could they be a family again, after all? Maybe Aneksi’s ill temper had been over Jamal never returning, and she’d taken her frustration out on Tairin.
She stood and held out a hand for her mother’s bowl, piling them in a corner until everything was ready for washing. Half the buckets were empty, so she picked up two and headed for the Nile. If her mother were willing to give them one more chance as a family, Tairin was determined to do her part.
On her second trip back with sloshing buckets, the wolf flashed into her mind.
“Not now. The morning’s been going so well. Go away,” she pleaded.
“It’s time.” The wolf’s voice in her head was implacable, ruthless, relentless.
Before she could launch arguments about it not being time at all, her body began to tingle and burn. The sensation began in her toes and moved slowly upward. Tairin dropped the buckets and shambled back toward the river, determined to hide somewhere. Maybe the island.
Surely once the wolf had its way, she’d be able to shift back. If nobody noticed, she might get away with it.
Maybe if she were strong enough, it wouldn’t go that far. She pulled magic like a madwoman, winding it around herself, but the pain jabbing her with a million knifepoints only grew worse, almost as if it fed on her power.
She reached the Nile. Heedless of her skirts, mostly because her hands and fingers had moved beyond her control, she plowed through the water and pitched up on the island. Walking wasn’t working, so she crawled, dragging herself up damp sand to where bushes grew thickly. Assuming she reached them, she’d hide there.
